From Beneath the Wreckage
by Nova Novella
Summary: Buffy the Vampire Lover — picks up from the episode 'Smashed' where Buffy and Spike first consummate their complicated relationship. Spuffy. Mature. Content/language. Please R&R!
1. Smashed

**Disclaimer: All characters are the property of Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy Productions while the dialogue is the property of the Joss Whedon. No copyright infringement intended.******

_Somewhere in Sunnydale, a couple is being cornered in a dark alleyway…_

"I'm sure we can work something out," the man says, trying to be diplomatic as he and the woman back against stacked crates.

"A deal of some sort," agrees the woman, clinging to the man's arm. "Anything you want."

"I always wanted a pony," quips a female voice from the shadows.

The two baddies and the couple turn to see who had made the sarcastic remark. They see a blond girl wearing braids and a black turtleneck sweater.

"Oh, you weren't really speaking to me, were you? My bad. Well, as long as I'm here—" she continues and breaks into a run towards the dark figures.

She kicks one of them forcefully in the stomach, and he doubles over in pain.

"Ugh! Lady!" he exclaims and moves away.

The girl looks surprised, and almost nostalgic. "Wow. A mugging…haven't gotten one of those in a while. Usually it's blood and with the horror…just a good old-fashioned mugging," she says sheepishly, moving toward the frightened couple. She bends down and picks up a red handbag—the lady's, most likely. "Kinda sweet, actually."

They look at her in disbelief.

"Oh, well, probably not for you," she says with a chuckle. "Here." She hands the bag to the woman. "Go. Now."

The couple flees from the alley and the girl turns to the two men just in time to block a weak punch from the man in the ski hat. She twists his arm around and roundhouse kicks the second man in the chest, knocking him clean to the ground.

"Not too sweet for you either, huh?" she teases, still twisting the first man's arm. As he stands, she continues to taunt, "Oh c'mon. Rush me. It'll be funny."

"Yaghhhhh!"

Just then, someone comes flying out of the shadows, tackling the second man and punching him right in the face before hitting the stacks of crates, which come tumbling down on him.

"No!" the girl exclaims, releasing the first man.

"Arghhhh!" the same someone wails, clamping his hand to his forehead.

"G—ugh!" she yells as the two muggers make their getaway.

"OW."

"What the HELL are you doing?" she demands as he stands up, hand still on his forehead.

"Thought they were demons," he mutters.

"Way to go with the keen observiness, Jessica Fletcher," she retorts forcefully, which elicits a glare from him.

He gives her an incredulous look. "Remind me not to help you," he snuffs.

"MORE often?" she scoffs.

That seems to be enough. "Hey. Little sympathy for the man with a migraine, here, can we?"

"Well that's what you get for attacking a human," she says deliberately.

"Yeah," he says. Then on second thought, "You'd think if the government was gonna put a chip in my head they'd at least make it so I can attack criminals and that sort."

She nods slowly. "Yes, because muggers DESERVE to be eaten."

He gives her another glare.

"Just have to get your rocks off fightin' demons," she says plainly.

His face lightens. "There are other ways."

The girl's face falls. "And to that, an _extreme_ 'see you later'." She turns her back to him and starts to go.

"Buffy," he says flirtatiously, sauntering after her.

The girl, Buffy, stops, and heaves an impatient sigh. But she couldn't deny that her heart skipped a beat when he sang her name. She turns around and shakes her head. "Spike, it's late, okay? Can we just finish this another time?"

"Oh," Spike said softly, moving toward her. "So you wanna jump right to the kissin', then, eh?"

Her face turns serious. "I am _not_ kissing you, Spike. Once was—"

"Twice," Spike interrupts.

She pauses. "But not again." And with that she turns and walks away.

The flirtatiousness was gone as he shot, "You're a _tease_, you know that, Slayer?"

Buffy rolls her eyes.

"Get a fella's motor revving, let the tension marinate a couple o' days and BAM—crown yourself the ice queen," he sulks.

She smirks. "Need a few more metaphors for that little mix?"

Spike sighs and calls out to her, "It's only a matter of time before you realize I'm the only one here for you, pet. You got no one else!"

His words do strike home a bit, but Buffy heads back home.

_What if he's right?_ Buffy wonders to herself. _What if I have no one? Everyone notices how detached I've been. They've backed off a bit. Not Spike though. Even though he's annoying…no, that's all I've got. He's super annoying. And I _kissed_ that!_

She shakes her head over and over along the walk home, and contemplates telling Willow about her kisses with Spike, her regret, and her weakness for wanting a little more than just that.

As she makes her way up the front porch steps she decides she's going to talk to Willow. She needs to dish the dirt to someone before she explodes.

Buffy opens the door to her house and sets the keys on the table. "Willow?" she says quietly. She walks quickly up the stairs and heads towards her mother's room, where Willow has been staying. Until recently, Willow's girlfriend Tara was staying there too, but Tara broke up with Willow because she was using too much magic, and not for good things.

"Hey," she says as she peeks around the corner of the open doorway. Willow is sitting on the bed and turns to look at her. "How ya doin'?"

"Oh, um," Willow begins, sitting up straighter. "Okay."

Buffy enters the room fully. "Yeah?" she asks and takes a seat on the bed.

"Yeah," Willow clarifies. "Not parades and cotton candy, but, yeah: okay."

Buffy looks down at her hands. "Will, um, can I talk to you? About something…." She looks back up at Willow.

"Of course," says Willow sincerely.

Buffy stares at her blankly. "Right. Okay, um. You know how we all make choices? And sometimes they're good, and sometimes they're…_less_ good…."

"Uh-huh," says Willow, ready to comfort Buffy.

"Well, lately I, um—" she cuts herself off as the bathroom door opens and a girl walks out. "Oh, Tara, hey—Amy?"

For the past three years, Amy had been a rat. And suddenly here she was, all womanly and stuff.

Amy ignored Buffy and shot a glance at Willow. "The whole school?"

Willow shook her head somberly.

"By a giant snake thing. Still adjusting," she says, eyes wide and unfocused. "Hey, Buffy."

"Hi," Buffy sighs, surprised. "How've you been?"

"Rat," Amy spits. "You?"

"Dead," Buffy confesses.

"Oh."

"I-I should let you guys catch up. I can—"

"No-no-no-no-no-no. Stay," Amy insists. Then, "Do you have any cookies?"

"Uh, yeah, what kind?" Buffy replies. The whole situation is so strange to her.

"Any kind," she decides happily. "NOT CHEESE."

Buffy gestures towards the door. "Um, sure, in the-the kitchen—I'll just get 'em—"

Amy is on the move. "Oh, no-no. I'll grab 'em."

Buffy stands uneasily. "Okay, well, um. At least, you know, let me m-make up the couch for you? It's late; you should stay here. Everybody does," she half-kids.

"Thank you," Amy says simply, and then leaves.

Buffy turns back to Willow. "Wow."

Willow nods in agreement. "I know."

"Is she gonna be okay?" Buffy asks of Amy.

"Dunno," says Willow and she shifts on the bed. "She's kind of freaked out. And, I would be too."

"Wow," Buffy says again.

Willow smiles. "Yeah, I-I just realized I could. Thought of the right thing, and…it's nice. Having another magically inclined friend around."

Buffy looks down at the hint of Tara.

"So what were you gonna tell me?" Willow asks Buffy. "You were sounding all serious."

"Huh? Oh. Uh, it's nothing. I mean, the whole Amy-rat, Amy thing…no way I'm topping that," she jokes and walks out of the room.

She comes downstairs to find Amy sitting on the couch watching a Double-Meat Palace two-for-one commerical and eating the remains of the chocolate chip cookies.

"Hey," Buffy says to Amy, who mutes the television. "How're you doin'? Need anything?"

"No, thanks." Amy looks down to the plate of cookies, then back up to Buffy. "Good cookies."

Buffy just smiles at her.

Amy's face falls. "Sorry about your mom," she says.

"Thanks," Buffy says faintly.

"It's crazy all the things that have happened since I went away," Amy blurts.

Buffy raises her eyebrows and looks at the floor. "No kidding."

"Snyder got eaten by a snake, high school got destroyed…." Amy looks off forlornly.

"Oh, Gatorade has a new flavor. Blue," quips Buffy.

Amy looks up at her. "See? Head spinning. People getting frozen…" she gestures to the TV.

Buffy looks back and forth quizzically.

"…Willow's dating girls…"

Buffy starts walking toward the TV.

"…And did you hear about Tom and Nicole?"

"People are getting frozen?" Buffy asks.

Amy shakes her head in amazement and unmutes the television.

_"…In critical yet stable condition as local authorities continue their investigation into the robbery that left one man frozen solid. Live from the museum, Brian Morris, KOUS,"_ says the man on the screen.

"Weird," Amy says pensively.

_"We'll have more on that story…"_

Buffy is done listening. She leaves the room, grabs her keys, and heads toward the museum.

It isn't long before she arrives. She curses her vertically challenged self as she attempts to see the frozen man wheeled out on the gurney.

"Excuse me," she mutters and squeezes past a few civilians. When she catches a glimpse of the frozen man, she darts off in search of clues.

There doesn't seem to be anything extraordinarily clue-y and she glances back toward the crime scene.

Suddenly Spike is there, startling her.

"Great," she says sarcastically, rolling her eyes.

"Well, well, well," says Spike accusingly. "Look who decided to show up," he says, and takes a big step towards Buffy.

"What are you doing here, Spike?"

He points to the museum. "Well, you know, a man was frozen alive in there. A little compassion, love."

She rolls her eyes and shakes her head and starts off away from the vampire.

"Er, you know, as long as we're both here we might as well tag along," he says, rushing after her. "I mean, as a team—"

"Yeah, that never really ends well, does it?" Buffy says stiffly.

"It did the other night," Spike says earnestly, looking into her eyes.

Buffy glares back at the vampires. Oh, how she loathed his attachment to her. "You really seem awfully fixated on a couple of kisses, Spike," she says and walks away from him again.

He looks almost hurt as he says, "And you seem awfully quick to forget about 'em," and catches up to her again.

Buffy stops and turns around. "Look. I'm sorry. Okay, I-I-I'm sorry, if you thought that it meant more."

Spike just stares at her disbelievingly. "But," he continues for her.

She hesitates. "But, when I kissed you, you _know_ I was thinking about Giles, right?"

Spike's face crinkles up as he visualizes her vocalization. "You know, I always wondered about you two."

"What? Oh," she says as it dawns on her and she makes a face. "_Gross_, Spike. He left. I was depressed. Ergo vulnerability and-and bad kissing decisions."

Spike is still skeptical.

"Kay? But that's all that it was—" a smile starts to play at Spikes lips "—you _have_ to let it go."

He grins at her. "Did it work?"

"What?"

He's still grinning. "You convince yourself?"

Buffy looks at him gravely. "Please. Stop." She turns around and continues away.

Spike stalks after her. "A man can change," he insists to her.

Again she stops and turns around, eager to have the last word. "You're not a man," she tells him plainly. "You're a thing." Then she starts off again.

He scowls and grabs her arm, pulling her back to him. "Stop walking away," he hisses.

"Don't touch me!" she shrieks and throws her fist into his face.

Spike strikes back and knocks her to the ground, glowering down at her. Suddenly he realizes that there's no brain pain. Determined not to let Buffy know, he feigns agony.

Buffy stands and composes herself as he cries out in pain. The marvelous chip at work again. She silently thanks Riley and The Initiative for planting it in his brain. Then she hits him again. He falls to the ground, and then sits up on his knees.

"You're a thing," she finishes, "an evil, disgusting, thing." With that she walks away, leaving him there to soak it in. _Serves him right_, she tells herself.

Spike watches her retreat and grins ear to ear, estatic. Time to go for a hunt.

Buffy makes her way back home. _I can't believe I considered Spike anything more than what he is—a monster_.

She walks through the cemetery on the way home, doing a quick patrol before reaching her house once more and climbing into bed without bothering to undress.

Spike walks into town, surveying all the choices.

"Look at all the goodies," he says to himself. He spots a girl in a fuchsia. She looks alone and in a rush, and Spike follows her as she heads away from the public and down an abandoned street.

Spike doubles back around and surprises her. She screams.

"That's right. You should scream."

She tries to make a run for it but he cuts her off.

"Creature of the night, here, yeah?" he tells her. "Some people forget that."

"Please," the girl pleads with him.

Spike smirks and steps toward her. "She thinks I'm housebroken. She forgot who she's dealing with," he says forebodingly.

"Anything you want, please—"

"Just 'cause _she's_ confused about where she fits in, _I'm_ supposed to be too? 'Cause I'm _not_." He paced back and forth in front of her, ignoring her tears. "I know what I am. I'm dangerous. I'm evil."

"I'm sure you're not evil," the girl tries to reassure him, to comfort him.

This infuriates Spike. He bloody well _is_ evil! "_Yes_, I am. I am a killer. That's what I do. I kill. And yeah, maybe it's been a long time, but it's not like you forget how. You just do it. And now I can…again. Alright? So here it goes," he says, devouring her with his eyes. He puts on his demon and she screams—that's how he likes them—and stares at her. "This might hurt a little," he warns, and lunges toward her.

Then his brain is on fire. He pulls back, howling in anguish as the bird escapes. He can almost hear the sizzling on his forehead as he falls back against a dumpster. He stands up, panting, jaw clenched.

"What the _hell_ is going on?"

Spike thinks. That nerd—Warren. He's a tech-y. He would know what is going on with his chip.

He sniffs the air and follows Warren's scent. They're holed up in the basement of a house. Spike rips open the door, startling the geek squad. He steps down into the cellar and they back away.

"Hello, it's called knocking," the funny-looking blond kid squeaks.

Spike ignores him and backs Warren against a wall. "Knock, knock, Robot Boy," he says as he raps on Warren's cranium. "Need you to look at my chip."

The awkward short kid interjects. "Is that like, British slang or something? 'Cause we're not—"

"_In my head_," Spike says menacingly. "The chip _in my head_."

"We're kind of in the middle of something," Warren retorts.

Spike turns to look at him. "Oh, you can play Holodeck another time. Right now, I'm in charge." Spike moves away from Warren.

Warren straightens up. "Yeah, what're you gonna do if we don't especially feel like maybe playing your—" Spike turns around and spies a Boba Fett action figure "—wait, what are you doing?"

Spike plucks it off its display stand and shows it to the three boys. "Examine my chip or Mr.—" he glances back at the name on the display stand "—Fett here is the first to die." He puts his thumb and forefinger around Boba's tiny head.

This gets their attention. "Hey, a-alright," the short one says. "Let's not…let's not do anything crazy here."

"That's a limited edition 1979 mint condition Boba Fett," the blond one whines as Spike taunts them.

"Alright, dude," Warren says, desperate to regain control. Spike turns his attention to him. "You can still make it right. You _know_ you don't wanna do this."

"What I want is answers, nimrod," Spike hisses at Warren, still threatening to decapitate the figurine.

"Right," Warren breathes. "But you don't wanna hurt the Fett, 'cause man, you're _not_ coming back from that. You know, you don't just do that and walk away."

Spike is unconvinced. "That right? Let's find out." He moves as though he is going to break the toy but Warren stops him.

"Whoa! St—one second." He rushes over to the rest of his nerd herd and they whisper. Spike can hear everything they're saying, but he knows he'll get his way in the end, so he stays quiet.

Spike is tossing the figure around when they turn back to him.

"I think we can work something out," says Warren. "I'll take a look at your chip. It'll be a deal. We scratch your back, you scratch—"

Spike is repulsed. "I'm not scratching your anything. You do what I tell you. That's the deal. Deal?"

Warren sighs, put out. "Deal."

"Then let's go," Spike says and chucks the figurine at the blond kid.

Warren leads them over to the science-y part of their "lair", and examines Spike on a table. When it's over, Spike sits with the rest of the geek squad and waits.

"You're English, right?" the blond kid asks.

Spike turns to scowl at him. "Yeah…."

"I've seen every episode of Dr. Who," he says.

Spike just stares at him.

"Not Red Dwarf though, um…"

The short kid finishes for him. "'Cause it's not out yet on DVD."

"Right," the blond chuckles. "It's not out yet on…DVD…."

Spike glares daggers at them. If looks could kill….

"Warren!" he yells.

"Here, I am, here," Warren stutters running over from the printer.

"Bloody hell. Get on with it then," Spike says and takes the papers from Warren. "Help me out here, Spock. I don't speak loser," he teases.

Warren takes the papers back from Spike. "Okay, right, right. Um, your chip works fine. Yeah."

Spike doesn't understand. "There's gotta be something wrong—"

"No," Warren insists, firmly believing that he's comforting Spike. "I don't know what that thing does. I'd like to…" he says as he leers at Spike.

Spike's nostrils flare and he leans away. "Hey."

Warren backs off. "But whatever it is, it works fine. There's no deterioration of the signal, it still is coming through in a steady pulse, which it's supposed to."

Slowly Spike rises from the chair until he is standing over Warren. "If you're lying to me," he threatens.

"No, it's all right here. I mean, it is. It's really not that hard to figure out if you just…what?"

He looks away, thinking. If there's nothing wrong with his chip….

"You tell anyone about this," he says, starting to smile.

Warren cowers below him. "No, I promise. W-who would I tell? I don't even know what this is about."

Spike grins sinisterly. "It's about the rules having changed," he says, and saunters past Warren. "Everything's different now. Nothin' wrong with me; somethin' wrong with 'er."

The next morning Buffy sees Dawn off to school and makes her way over to the Magic Box with Willow. They meet up with Xander and Anya and attempt to uncover something about a possibly frost demon.

"It says here the security guard's definitely gonna live," Willow says over the morning paper.

"He's all thawed out. Says they used hairdryers," Xander adds, giving the girls a quirky look. "Huh."

"Everything's slowed down—his nervous system, circulatory system. He's still unconscious," Willow says sympathetically.

Near the bookshelf Anya whines.

"Anya?" Buffy says.

"Such a pain," Anya says animatedly, scanning the shelves. "The text I wanted—Giles took it with him. He has this thing that owning a book makes it like his property."

Everyone nods, blowing her off and turning back to their unsuccessful research.

Buffy caves. They need Giles. "What should we do? Should we call him? It's like the middle of last night there. Or maybe it's tomorrow," she says, thinking aloud. "Anyone remember how that works?"

Xander puts the paper down and sighs.

Willow comes to the rescue. "It's okay, no one freak. We'll just do it another way."

As she reaches down into her bag everyone becomes flustered.

"I-I don't think we need to resort to…I mean—" Buffy hushes when she sees what Willow has.

Willow smugly places her white laptop onto the table and everyone sighs.

Buffy looks surprised. "Oh. Hey. Cool." She and Xander exchange relieved smiles.

"Alright, back to basics. Little old fashioned, state-of-the-art hacker action," Xander pipes.

Willow smiles and starts the computer up.

Buffy beams. "That's great, Will. I haven't seen you do that in a long time." Willow puts her hands to the keyboard and they light up. Buffy frowns. "I-I don't remember that part," she stammers to Xander.

Willow is looking up at something the others can't see. "It's quicker," she explains. "It'll just take me a sec to go through the files. Okay. Internal Police Report."

Again Buffy and Xander exchange looks. This time it's worry.

"A diamond was stolen from the museum last night—a big one. On loan from the British Museum. They're withholding information to smoke out the criminals. Oh," Willow sighs. "It's pretty. There's a picture."

"Well, is it a supernatural diamond? You know, like, healing powers, or good lucky?" Buffy looks over to Anya.

Anya shrugs. "Maybe it's cursed. Diamonds are excellent for cursing." Anya turns to Willow.

"Oh, keep checking, shall we?"

Xander leans back. "Well, you know, I am kinda beat, and betcha that's tiring, that—" he sneaks in a fake yawn "—thing you're doing there."

Willow looks at him, offended. "Guys. I'm fine. What's the deal with—"

Anya rolls her eyes. "Oh, for crying out loud! This is bizarre! You're all, 'lalala', with the magic, and the not talking, like everything's normal, when we _all_ know that Tara up and left you and now everyone's scared to say anything to you," she snaps. She breathes, and looks around. "Except me." She smiles down at Xander. "Is this that thing I do that you were commenting…?"

Xander shakes his head fiercely, not looking at her. "Yeah."

"Guys," Willow interrupts. "It's okay. It's hard, but it's better this way. Little things just started taking over. Things that didn't matter. But we saw them differently, so they got blown out of proportion. And this time away will help us sort through things. Really."

No one seems convinced.

She smiles. "Now, let's just keep working on this. I don't wanna leave Amy alone in the house so long."

Xander narrows his eyes. "Amy…is she…how is she adjusting?"

"It's hard to say," Willow replies. "It's a lot to take in. I keep expecting her to do, like, ratty stuff. You know, licking her hands clean, shredding newspaper, leaving little pellets in the corner." She smiles at her joke.

Buffy is less amused. "Let's definitely not leave her alone in the house too long."

Willow shrugs and they continue to research. Much later it gets dark, and they all agree that Willow should go back to check on Amy. They look through the books a while more.

"Ah, I got it! Here's our demon, right here!" Xander exclaims, thrilled to be part of the success.

Buffy looks at Anya.

"That's a D&D manual, sweetie," she says to him.

Xander looks down at the book. "No, but it could—" he turns it to see the front cover. He chuckles, embarrassed. "Oh."

"Let's face it. We're not gonna find this thing 'cause it doesn't exist," Anya says straightforwardly. "There's no such thing as a frost monster who eats diamonds."

"Well, maybe he doesn't eat them," Buffy says matter-of-factly. "You know, maybe he just thinks they're pretty." Her words sink in and she closes her book. "We suck."

Xander nods. "We need new brains. What's up with Willow?"

"Out with Amy, I guess," Buffy replies.

Anya rolls her eyes. "Oh great, someone to do more magic with."

"But at least she's not all cooped up and crying," Buffy says, looking on the bright side. "That's forward momentum. I know I don't know everything that happened with her and Tara, but—"

Xander cuts in. "Tara thinks Willow is doing too much magic, and she's not the only one."

"I know. But I think she'll be fine, you know? It-it's Willow. She has a level head."

"Well those are the ones you have to watch out for the most," says Anya. "Responsible types."

"Right. She might go crazy and start alphabetizing everything," Buffy agrees sarcastically.

Anya doesn't falter. "I'm serious. Responsible people are always so concerned with being good all the time that when they finally get a taste of being bad, they can't get enough. It's like all…kablooey."

"That's not true," Buffy says in defense of her friend.

"Okay, not kablooey," Anya compromises. "More like BAM."

"Its human nature, Buff," Xander concurs. "Will's getting a taste of something powerful—way bigger than her."

"She was getting out of control with it before Tara left," Anya reminds them, "and now that she's gone…."

"It's _gotta_ be seductive," Xander reasons. "Just giving into it, going totally wild. We need to keep an eye on her."

Buffy consents quickly. "Okay. Okay, we'll keep an eye. But we can't assume that everybody's getting seduced. You know, sometimes—" she's interrupted as the phone rings and she goes to answer it. "Hello, Magic Box."

"Slayer," a deep voice purrs into the receiver.

Buffy strains her ears. "Spike?"

"Meet me at the cemetery. Twenty minutes. Come alone."

It sounds like him, but he's speaking so quietly. "Spike?"

"Bloody hell," he mutters. "Yes, it's me."

Buffy is astonished. "You're calling me on the phone?"

"Just be there," Spike huffs.

"Why?" she shoots back quickly. "Are you helping again? Have a lead on this frost monster thingy?"

Spike smiles. "Something like that, yeah. Thought you might be up for a little grunt work."

Buffy gasps. "What? No. No grunting."

He smiles wider. "I was talking shop, love, but if you got other ideas. You. Me. Cozy little tomb with a view."

Buffy hangs up quickly and walks back to the table.

"So. What did Captain Peroxide want?" Xander asks.

"Nothing," Buffy replies. "You know, he just wanted to see if I wanted to patrol for the monster. But I-I told him that I would not," she sputters.

Xander and Anya exchange funnies and they chat for a bit before closing up.

"I'm telling you. I think there's something about this thing," Buffy says adamantly.

"Well, I dunno, Buff," says Xander. "It seems like we've been through every book."

"Yeah, even the ones that _weren't_ so boring you wanted to kill yourself," Anya jokes.

Xander stops. "We have those?"

"I'm just saying. All the things that have happened lately? The bank robbery, the jewelry heist."

"Exploding lint," Xander adds.

"Is it me or do these things just seem really…" Buffy searches for the word.

"Lame?" Anya interjects.

Buffy considers it. "Well, I was gonna go with unusual, but, yeah. I dunno. I'll do a quick patrol tonight and after a good night sleep we can solve this thing tomorrow."

The two Scoobies agree.

"Optimism. I remember optimism," Anya says warmly.

"That's because you're like a thousand," Xander jokes.

"Good night, guys," Buffy says.

"Good night," Xander and Anya say in unison and walk in the opposite direction.

Buffy takes a short cut behind some buildings and Spike takes her by surprise.

"Slayer," he says through gritted teeth.

"And so my night is now complete," she says to herself.

As she continues to walk past him he says, "You never showed."

"Sorry," she lied. "Little busy actually doing stuff."

He walks beside her. "You shouldn't be so flip, love."

"What're you gonna do, walk behind me to death?" she scoffs.

"I'm just saying things might be a little different," Spike says. He steps in front of her. "You oughta be careful."

"Enough," she says casually and moves to get away from him. Spike blocks her. "Get out of my way," she tells him.

He smirks at her. "Or what?"

Buffy shrugs and throws her fist into his face. He hits her back, and breathes hard. She turns to him.

"Oh, the pain, the pain," he says grimly, "is gone. Guess what I just found out. Looks like I'm not as toothless as you thought, sweetheart."

Buffy looks afraid. "How?"

"Don't you get it? Don't you see? "You came back _wrong_," he sneers.

She rushes at him and punches him. He laughs. She kicks him a few times and goes for another punch when he blocks it and hurls one of his own at her. She flies into a fence. Buffy turns to Spike. He's smiling, mocking her.

"It's a trick. You did something to the chip."

"It's no trick. It's not me, it's you. Just you, in fact, that's the funny part," he punches her in the face, "'Cause you're the one that's changed." He punches her again. "That's why this doesn't hurt me." Spike grins. "Came back a little less human than you were."

"You're wrong," she tells him, and kicks him hard enough to send him flying.

"Then how come you're so spooked, love? And why can I—" Spike punches her "—do that?"

"You're wrong," she says again. She attacks him and they crash into an old building.

He punches her in the face and she responds by doubling it. He shoots backwards and hits the refrigerator before stumbling into a corner. Buffy kicks him and he flies back again.

Spike stands up laughing. "Oh, poor little lost girl." He jumps up and grabs hold of the chandelier, swings, and kicks her in the face. "She doesn't fit in anywhere. She's got no one to love."

Buffy grabs him by his jacket collar and flings him into the staircase, breaking the banister. "Me? _I'm_ lost? Look at you, you idiot!" Spike stands up. "Poor Spikey. Can't be a human, can't be a vampire. Where the hell do you fit in?" She ducks as he swings an angry punch her way and punches him hard in the stomach before slinging him into the fireplace. Bricks fly everywhere. "Your job is to kill the slayer. But all you can do is follow me around making moon eyes."

"I'm in love with you," he growls at her.

"You're in love with pain. Admit it. You like me…because you enjoy getting beat down. So really, who's screwed up?"

"Hello, vampire!" Spike says and throws an unsuccessful punch. Buffy hits him in the face. "I'm supposed to be treading on the dark side." He throws Buffy against the wall, runs after her, picks her up and rolls her across the floor. She looks up as he straddles her and grabs her jacket collar. "What's your excuse?"

She puts her hand on his face and pushes his backward, sending him flying into a pillar. Then she lunges at him, tackling him.

Spike regains control and holds her against the broken staircase, laughing. She struggles to get out of his grip. She punches him and his playful mood is gone. He elbows her in the face and pulls her to him. "I wasn't planning on hurting you," he says, and smirks. "Much."

"You haven't even come close to hurting me," she sneers.

"Afraid to give me the chance?" he dares her.

Buffy shoves him violently against the wall.

"You afraid I'm gonna—"

Buffy shuts him up as she slams her lips against his and kisses him fiercely. Spike is shocked at first, but as she wraps her arms around him he pulls her tight against him, tongues fencing. He feels himself turn rock solid behind the zipper of his black jeans.

He lifts her up and moves to another wall. He's vaguely aware that the building is breaking, but it isn't important. Spike pushes against her and she gasps, pulling his head towards her.

Buffy pushes him away and follows after him as part of the ceiling collapses behind them. They meet again against another wall and he kisses her hard on the mouth. Again he hoists her up and she clings to him, lips never parting.

His mind is spinning as Buffy reaches down and unclips his belt. She throws it behind her and pulls him out and groans as she slides down onto him.

Had he a beating heart, it would've stopped at that moment.

Their eyes lock and for another moment, Spike is sure he has been reborn. The thought is wipes clean from his mind as the Slayer bounces up and down without blinking. Her eyes flutter shut and she digs her nails into his neck.

Spike's eyes roll back into his head as white hot pleasure pulses through his bruised body. He can't think straight. Their lips meet again and he turns, pinning her against the wall. She moans into his mouth and he pushes further inside her, using the wall for support.

Buffy reaches up with her right hand and grabs the pillar, feeling his hard length fill her again with each stroke. She sighs and moans again, hugging him close with her one free arm. Her lips make him tingle all over. It was a feeling likened to being misted with holy water, only there was no smoking skin, only pure delight.

He thrust his hips, stroking slowly and eliciting quiet moans of approval from the Slayer as she sighs in his ear, making him hard all over again.

Buffy had never felt anything like this. It didn't feel like love, but it was need, pure desire. And damn, did it feel good. She could feel him to her bellybutton. His thickness pulsed inside her—she wasn't sure how, as his heart didn't pump blood through his veins—but there's no time to think. She's hot. Her skin is on fire and her face is flushed. She can hear him grunting with every thrust and it only increases her arousal.

Together they rock, and they both know Buffy is close to coming when she lets go of the wall and her right hand joins her left in hugging Spike close. As Spike begins to lose control too, the two fall backward and plummet through the floor, both moaning in ecstasy as he explodes inside her and they orgasm simultaneously.

The pain of hitting the concrete floor nearly makes Spike yelp, but as the smoke clears and his eyes find Buffy's, the pain falls away. That, and Buffy moves up and down on him again, getting him hard all over. After all, what's a little pain to this bliss?


	2. Into Temptation

**Disclaimer: All characters are the property of Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy. No copyright infringement intended.**

_In an abandoned, collapsing building in the skanky part of Sunnydale…_

He was tall, bleached-blond, blue-eyed and dead. Not her usual pick of men, although she had been with tall and dead as well as with blond and blue-eyed. Still, he was different. He had no soul, for one, but he was also a bad boy. It seemed to Buffy that Spike would be a bad boy regardless of soul inventory.

And, excluding the soul part, he was not in any way lacking. Perhaps it was that first release of sexual tension that made her feel like this was better than anything she'd had in a while—no offence to Angel or Riley, as she had loved Angel and had very strong feelings for Riley—or perhaps it was the fact that Spike was experienced and well-endowed. Buffy couldn't pretend she hadn't noticed, with Spike being stuck in the 80s and all. Did everyone realize how tight his pants were all the time, or was it just her?

Buffy's skin and heart was thrumming as she lied on top of him. She breathed heavily and felt the unnecessary rise and fall of Spike's chest beneath her.

Spike was thrilled to be dead—well, undead. He knew that if he'd been alive when Buffy initiated, well, what she initiated, Spike would've been a goner for sure. He knew his heart would have stopped right then, and his lungs would have failed him. That's what they were doing now.

He closed his eyes and let his other senses become hyperaware. He could feel her heart drumming, could feel the impression her breasts made against his chest—oh, did they feel nice—he could feel the heat radiating from where they were still joined, and then he hardened again.

Buffy sat up, and he followed after. She punched him in the jaw and heard a satisfying crack.

He slugged her back and held his hand to his jaw. "Bloody buggering hell, Buffy! What was _that_ for?"

She breathed heavily and shook her head quickly. "I—"

They lunged at each other and desperately, ravenously seeking each other's flesh, they fumbled with clothing. Finally Buffy felt Spike's bare skin beneath her slender fingers. She sighed and ran her hands up the hard, smooth planes of his chest.

He removed Buffy's silk chemise with dexterous hands. He gathered her breasts in his two hands and squeezed, brushing over her pink nipples with his thumbs.

Her breathing hitched.

She felt herself coming back to life. She seemed to be numb to everything in her world, but she could feel Spike's hands, his tongue, as though they were healing her, bringing feeling back to her skin—her soul. Every place he touched left a burning trail until Buffy felt hot all over. But she wanted more.

Buffy lifted herself off of him and they both whimpered, but she needed to feel more of him. Spike understood and hastily removed his pants before grabbing her by the hips and pinning her beneath him. She squirmed a little, but he gathered her hands above her head and kissed her to shut her up.

She melted into his kiss and groaned as she moved downward, feathering kisses along her jaw line and down her neck. He released her hands and raked his fingers down her arms. Again his hands found her breasts. He pushed them together and covered her left nipple with his mouth, swirling his tongue around the hardened bud.

Buffy panted and squirmed beneath him.

"Spike," she gasped, "Please!"

He couldn't deny her. Not after waiting as long as he had. Not after thinking she was gone forever.

In one swift stroke he pushed the length of his cock inside her. Buffy groaned in satisfaction and raised her hips to meet his next thrust. He stroked steadily in and out of her, his lips resting against her neck.

Spike could feel the hot blood he would never taste, so close, and it drove him even faster.

Buffy could barely catch her breath; she knew another climax was close.

Spike could sense it too, and he shifted to his knees without pulling out. Grabbing Buffy's slim waist in two hands, Spike pulled her up. Spike stroked into her again and he penetrated deeper than he had before as her fingernails raked along his back, cutting into his flesh and making him growl.

With a gasp and a shudder she felt her orgasm hit and she rode the waves and Spike fucked her hard, pushing deeper and deeper into her.

"You like that?" he couldn't help hissing into her ear.

"Mhm!" Buffy managed in a moan an octave higher than her usual pitch.

As her walls contracted around him he felt his own cum shoot out deep inside her. He kept pumping, riding the pleasure out for both of them until they collapsed, spent and shuddering.

Spike moved off of her, and dug around in the pocket of his leather coat. He rummaged up a pack of cigarettes and lit one. He inhaled deeply. A fag after a shag was the third best thing in the world. The second being a fag after a shag with Buffy, and the first, of course, being a shag with Buffy.

Even though he knew the Slayer thought she was in charge, Spike saw the reality of the situation.

"Slayer," he whispered seductively and blew smoke out away from the two of them.

"Mmm…" she replied hazily.

"Fancy a drag?" he held the cigarette out to her.

She looked at it for a second, as if considering, and then shook her head.

"You want more, luv?" Spike nipped at her earlobe and she whimpered.

"Yes," she sighed sheepishly, a beautiful blush suddenly adorning her cheeks.

Spike crushed his cigarette in the cement near the wall.

"Let me taste you, pet."

In an instant, her expression went from bliss to standard what-the-hell-Spike.

Spike rolled his eyes. "Not your blood!" he exclaimed.

Buffy relaxed a little and then blushed again as she realized what he meant. She nodded slowly and he began to move down her body, planting kisses over her hot skin and biting her hip bone softly before reaching her glistening core.

Spike closed his eyes and breathed deeply.

_Marvelous_.

He gripped her hips and gave her a gentle kiss. She groaned, urging him to continue. It felt exquisite. His long, strong tongue traced along her inner lips and flicked over her clitoris. Still tender from her previous activity, the quick sensation set her ablaze instantly, and she bucked off the concrete floor. Spike pushed her down and held her there, continuing to lap at her.

His lips moved over her tiny bud and suckled, drawing out rapturous moans from the Slayer.

Buffy bit down hard on her bottom lip to keep from screaming in delight. When she released it, she felt the salty taste of iron on her tongue.

She'd drawn blood.

She glanced down past her bellybutton at Spike. He was still thoroughly engaged in what he was doing. He was doing an excellent job, she noted just as he pushed two fingers inside her.

Buffy gasped. Spike moved his fingers along her inner wall, sliding over her G-spot hard and slow. The combination of that and Spike's suckling lets Buffy only hold on for another minute.

She lets out a shrilling moan in ecstasy and Spike licks her clean.

He looks up, hazy, and smiles his crooked smile. Then his eyes and nose focus in on the small pool of blood on Buffy's lower lip. His pupils dilate and he moves back up her body.

Buffy watched him, slightly terrified. She knew he could sense her fear, and she prayed he wouldn't take advantage of it. And that he wouldn't

Spike positioned his head over hers and glanced down at her lip.

"You're hurt, luv," he said, sounding far away.

Buffy swallowed nervously and nodded. Without thinking too much she lifted her face towards his.

Spike jerked back quickly, grimacing. "Oi! Don't _taunt_ me!" he snapped.

"I'm not," she promised, holding his gaze.

He eyed her warily and moved back towards her. He lowered his lips and touched them gently to hers. Spike pulled back slightly and slid his tongue along his lower lip, where Buffy's blood had been mirrored.

His eyes fluttered shut and he smiled.

"You know, pet," he said, opening his eyes and looking over her face hungrily. "The blood of a Slayer is a known aphrodisiac."

"Really?" The corners of Buffy's mouth twitched as she attempted to hide her satisfaction.

Spike nodded. "That's right." He licked his lips again.

Buffy pouted slightly, puckering out her bottom lip, offering it to Spike. He accepted eagerly yet restrained, holding himself away from her as he drank her blood.

It was a very pleasant feeling, Buffy mused as he kissed her. She felt a lightheaded and weightless—_probably because he's cutting off circulation to my brain_, she giggled to herself, feeling giddy.

Spike sat back, panting, his sapphire eyes dark with desire. "I shouldn't," he mustered, a confused look on his face. Was he…doing the right thing?

Buffy sat up swiftly—bad choice—and winced as her head spun.

"You alright, luv?" he asked promptly, rushing to her side and wrapping an arm around her.

"'Am I alright?'" she repeated with a soft chuckle. "I wish…."

She looked up at him pleadingly, wanting him to have more of her. She wanted him to penetrate her in another way. She wanted to feel his teeth sink into her and feel the rush of blood to the surface, to his mouth.

Buffy moved towards him in the dark, in the dust and the ash. She put her mouth to his ear and breathed.

"Bite me," she whispered erotically.

Spike groaned her name. "Buffy…."

"It's okay," she said, pushing him down slowly until she was able to straddle him. "I want you to."

He cocked his head to the side, admiring the delightful view of the Slayer.

"If I do, pet, Little Bit, and Red, and all your mates are gonna see a hole in your neck and they'll be out for blood—_my_ blood—in a tick—" he reached up and molded his hands to her breasts "—and then I won't be able to do _this_ anymore, and I'll be having none of that, sorry."

Spike wasn't really sorry, but Buffy wasn't going to complain. He moved to her nipples and pinched them into points with his thumb and forefinger.

"Mmm," she sighed. "Oh!" she gasped as Spike pulled her down to him.

He rolled them over until he was on top of her and kissed her gently.

"I love you," he told her.

Buffy stared at him, searching his face for signs of deceit. She found none, but had no verbal reply.

"I'm going to make love to you," he continued.

She frowned. No he wasn't. Spike wasn't allowed to do that. Angel had been allowed, and Riley had been allowed, and Parker had kind of technically been allowed, but this wasn't about love or affection. It was about seizing the moment—_carpe_ fucking _diem_—it was about release, and escape. She didn't want to go back to singing the same old tune with a new guy. Buffy wanted a new song. She wanted to sing.

"No."

Spike mirrored her expression. "No? What d'you mean, 'no'? It's a bit late for that, innit, pet?"

"Make me sing," she instructed.

His eyes flitted over her face as he tried to decrypt her command. Finally he nodded slowly. "A'right, kitten. You'll sing. But then I want a turn on stage. Get it?"

"Fine," agreed Buffy.

Without turning away from her, Spike moved his hand to her nether regions and began to stroke her.

Almost immediately Buffy felt herself respond. She started to ache below, and painfully so as he slowly caressed her.

The slightest glint of moonlight slipped through the crevices of the destructed building and lit up Buffy's emerald eyes like tossing copper chloride into a fire as she writhed under her gaze and touch.

"Oh!" she murmured in gratification. She knew she was boiling to the brim, and if she could just…turn a bit…that way…

"What the hell, Spike?" Buffy snapped, gasping as he took his hand away.

He laughed throatily. "Don't you worry, luv. I'm just getting started."

Spike shifted and positioned himself between her legs, still looking at her intently. He nudged just the head of his shaft at her opening with meticulous concentration. His brow was furrowed and his jaw was clenched. It took every bit of his sanity to hold back.

She wanted to sing, but she hadn't yet learned her lines.

"Spike," she groaned low in her throat, her eyelids flurrying shut.

He sighed happily—whilst still concentrating on not ravaging the slayer…yet. The way she said his name rubbed him in all the right ways.

"Exquisite," he whispered under his breath.

She didn't hear him, or she chose to ignore it.

"_Spike_." This time it was a controlled demand through gritted teeth.

Glancing down quickly, Spike decided she was wet enough, and he was certainly wet enough. He lifted her legs above her head and rested them on his shoulders thrust deeply into her. Spike pumped hard and fast, his cock fondling her G-spot with every stroke.

He was big and hard. It was a magnificent invasion that rocked Buffy's small frame with incredible ecstasy.

"Ugh," Buffy grunted. "_So good_."

It was more encouragement for Spike, and he moved his hips faster, savoring the friction as she met his thrusts, and gasping as her inner muscles clenched every time he reentered her.

Buffy's face contorted slightly. Her mouth dropped open into a little 'o' and her eyebrows tilted upward as she braced herself for a bone-melting orgasm and rip-roaring cry of ecstasy.

Spike joined Buffy in her climax, thrusting as he cried out and spurted his seed inside her. He took her legs off his shoulders before giving way, their lips locking violently. Amidst the panting and trembling, Spike hoisted himself up and looked into her eyes.

"Did you sing, pet?" he asked her.

She nodded. "It was a symphony. Didn't you hear it?"

Spike laughed weakly, mentally gathering physical strength.

"My turn," he told her.

Buffy had to oblige. It was part of the deal.

He started with soft, gentle kisses on her mouth, tasting her tongue with his own. He kissed her cheeks, her forehead, her chin, and the outer rim of her ears and then lingered over her face.

Their naked bodies were still crushed together, and he was still inside her, still as aroused as ever. She was his Slayer now. He'd marked his territory. Anyone—well, maybe not anyone—but any vampire with a nose could smell it. She was his.

Buffy's eyes darted back and forth between his eyes, asking an unanswerable question. Spike put his hand to Buffy's face and moved tendril away, tucking it behind her ear and combing his fingers through her hair.

He bent down and kissed her again as he began to thrust slowly, ever so slowly, never once breaking his gaze. He pecked her lightly on the nose as he moved against her.

Buffy's soft mewls of euphoria came in short, frequent waves. She gripped Spike's biceps and bit down on her lip, embarrassed under his intense scrutiny.

"You're a goddess," he said in a low voice.

Buffy blushed but couldn't manage to tear herself away from the vampire's moonlit eyes as he rocked slowly into her.

One of his hands disappeared beneath him and found her clitoris. She moaned as he stroked it, getting hotter.

Did she even have it in her? she wondered. Four orgasms was quite a lot for one night. The only time there had been more was when she and Riley were under the influence of the sexually repressed children at his fraternity house.

Buffy had it in her.

Her grip on Spike's biceps tightened and touched her forehead to his. Her mouth fell open again and she let loose the most erotic moan Spike had ever heard, sending him falling after her into euphoric oblivion.

They both opened their eyes, breathing heavily and staring at each other, waiting.

"Spike, I—" she cut herself off.

"You…?" he tried to finish for her, willing her to say it, to say that she loved him.

"I liked that," she sighed.

Spike would settle for that. He kissed her sweetly and withdrew from her. Buffy nuzzled against him in the crevice of his arm and he kissed the top of her head.

"Good night, luv," he said.


	3. Wrecked

**Disclaimer: All characters are the property of Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy Productions while the dialogue is the property of the Joss Whedon. No copyright infringement intended.**

_In a destroyed building in Sunnydale, with tiny rays of sunlight streaming through the rubble…_

There was something tracing patterns on her left hand.

Buffy opened her eyes ever so slightly to peek down at her hand. It was entwined with someone else's, and that person was tracing their thumb in a circle on the back of her hand.

It was definitely a man's hand, she noted. It had the boxy sort of look to it, with wide (but not meaty) fingers.

_Angel_.

That was her first thought, which she quickly corrected. The hand was too calloused to be Angel's.

_Riley_.

Her second guess wasn't any better. It wasn't big enough to be Riley's.

She looked at the foreign hand's wrist, and her eyes trailed up the rest of the arm—which was very toned and well-muscled—to a muscled shoulder, neck, and—

A full head of bleached blond hair.

_Spike_.

It was Spike. Spike was holding her hand and rubbing the pad of his thumb over the back of her hand.

She sits up in a hurry, clinging to the fabric draped over her close to her body. She breathes hard and looks around.

Spike lifts his head up and languidly opens his eyes as Buffy jumped up, desperately trying to cover naked herself.

"When—when did the building fall down?" she manages finally, staring down at Spike.

He looks up and chuckles. "I don't know. Must've been sometime between the first time and the, uh—" he looks Buffy up and down as he tries to remember how many times and he chuckles again.

Buffy's face contorts with horror as it all comes back to her. "Oh," she says softly. "Oh my god."

Spike cocks his head to the side as she rummages around for her clothes. It's a glorious sight—Buffy prancing around in nothing but his leather duster, finding scraps of clothing among the heaps of rubble. He gets more comfortable. He knows there's no going back now. He loves her—as much as a soulless vampire can love a Slayer, anyway.

She's down to her last shoe.

"Shoe. Need my shoe," she tells herself, looking around.

"What's the hurry, luv?" Spike drawls lazily, pleased with himself as she sifts through piles of plaster.

She snaps her head toward him. "The hurry is I left Dawn all night. And don't call me 'luv'."

Stung, "You didn't seem to take issue of that last night," he smarts back, stretching, and replaying certain scenes again in his head. He smirks. "Or with any of the other little nasties we whispered."

Buffy takes this in, freaking. Last night—SO. WRONG. And so completely, mind-numbingly wild. Everything she's needed—Escape. Release. Ecstasy…with Spike.

"Can we not—talk?" she says hotly as she finds her other boot and puts it on her left foot.

Spike sighs, defeated. "I just don't see why you have to run off so quick. Thought we could, um—"

"NOT. GONNA HAPPEN," Buffy snaps. "Last night was the end of this freak show," she declared and stepped over him to reach for her jacket.

Spike's expression hardens and he reaches up, yanking her down into his naked lap. She holds herself away from him. "DON'T. SAY THAT."

Buffy sighs. "What did you think was gonna happen? What, we're gonna read the newspaper together? Play footsie under the rubble?" she challenges.

Spike shifts and has her cradled in his right arm. He takes his left hand and moves in under her long leather skirt and between her legs.

Buffy gasps as two of his fingers delve insider her and his thumb flicks over her clitoris. Her eyelids flutter shut and he watches her swallow, watches the blood rush to her face.

"Not exactly what I had in mind," he retorts, breaking her trance.

She shimmies to get away from him. "Stop."

"Make me," he sneers and goes to touch her again. She wriggles against him and feels him respond.

"No!" she grunts but then they're kissing again. Buffy moves to get closer and then snaps out of it. "No," she says again, "I have to g—"

"No, stay," Spike pleads softly, pulling her back to him. "I'm stuck here." He gestures to the sunlight. "Sun's out."

Buffy searches his face and then her lips search for his again as he kisses her deeply. Then he moves her under him and rakes his fingers up her leg. She moans in his ear as his left hand finds her breast.

"I knew," he begins suddenly, pulling away from a panting Buffy. "I knew the only thing better than killing a Slayer would be fuc—"

"WHAT?" Buffy shrieks, shoving him off her and scampering to the farthest end of the room. "Ugh! _That's_ what this was about? _Doing_ a Slayer?"

Spike laughs deeply. "I wouldn't throw stones, pet. You seem to be quite the groupie yourself."

"Shut up," Buffy whispers and wipes her lips with her hand, repulsed. She's holding back tears.

"I'm just saying, vampires get you hot," Spike said, as if it were the most obvious thing.

"**_A_** vampire got me hot. _ONE_. But he's gone. _You're_ just—" she looks at him. "You're just convenient."

Spike huffed in disbelief and stood. He found his jeans on a slab of concrete behind him and threw them on, buckling the belt angrily.

"So, what, now? You go back to treating me like dirt 'til the next time you got an itch you can't scratch? Well forget it. Last night changed things. I'm done being your whipping boy."

"_Nothing's_ changed. It was a _mistake_," Buffy tells him.

"_Bollocks_," spits Spike. "It was a bloody revelation. Now you can act as high and mighty as you like," he says, meandering towards her, "but I know where you live now, Slayer. I've tasted it," he drawls, leaning towards her, wanting a kiss.

"Get a grip," Buffy retorts, unwavering. "Like you're God's gift."

Spike laughs lightly, amused. "Hardly. Wouldn't be nearly as interesting, would it?"

He moves in for another kiss but Buffy shoves him away. He runs in front of her, blocking her exit.

"No, let me go," she insists angrily.

He locks his wrists behind her neck, holding her still, and looks at her. "I may be dirt. But you're the one who likes to roll in it, Slayer. You never had it so good as me. Nev—"

Buffy tore away from him, hearing the truth in his statement. "Ugh! You're bent!"

Spike laughed. "Yeah, and it made you scream, dinnit?" he teased, turning to her.

Buffy threw her jacket on. "I _swear_ to _God_. If you tell _anyone_ about last night, I _will_ kill you," she spat.

Spike sobers. "Right," he said. Then he reached into his back pocket and pulled out Buffy's lacey white thong. "You, uh, gonna want these too?"

Buffy pursed her lips, glaring at him, and punched him right in the nose. He fell to the ground and she darted up the stairs, leaving him alone.

Buffy opened the front door of her house and heard Willow's voice.

"…left some stuff upstairs, let me get them—"

"I'll get them later," Tara called back and stormed past Buffy.

She continued through the dining room and entered the kitchen frowning. Willow was near the fridge and Amy is sitting at the counter. Dawn was standing in front of the stove.

"Buffy!" Dawn exclaims, relieved. "Where were you? Are you okay?"

Buffy thinks for a moment. "I'm fine."

"You're not," Dawn says emotionally. "You're all sore and limpy."

"I'm not s-sore," Buffy assures Dawn, bending to take a seat. She grimaces as she moves. "I'm just, uh, had a fight. You know, the all-nighter kind," she says and looks down.

"Figured," Dawn said understandingly. "I knew that's why you didn't call. So what's the big bad? Should we be worried?"

Buffy looks at Willow. "No. I think you guys are safe," she says meekly. "Tara was here?" she says, eager to change the subject.

"I guess she stayed over with Dawn," Willow says nonchalantly.

"You guess?" Buffy asks, eyeing her. "Where were you?"

Willow shrugs. "We went out. We kind of lost track of time."

"Oh."

"I never would have if I knew you weren't coming home," Willow defends.

"No, I mean, of course. You know. Wasn't intentional. And, you know, everyone's safe." Buffy turns to Dawn. "You are, right? You're okay?"

Dawn giggles quietly. "Oh, yeah, I mean, um, I think my pancakes are burning, but…."

Willow walks to the stove and turns it off.

"Tara was making…them," Dawn trails off as Willow looks at them sadly.

"I've, uh, I've gotta get some sleep," Willow says.

"Me too," Buffy sighs.

"Yeah," says Amy, standing up from the chair. "I should go home. Dad's expecting me."

"Kay," Willow says to her. "Call you later."

"Yeah, good," Amy says with a smile and leaves through the back door.

"You sure you're alright?" Buffy asks Dawn slowly. "I'm sorry about everything."

"It's okay. You should rest. You're beat from monster wrestling all night."

Buffy's eyes flick away from Dawn's. "Yeah. Right. Thanks," she says, and starts off toward her bedroom.

"All these demons are starting to look alike," Xander complained.

Buffy, Xander, and Anya were at the Magic Box again, scouring Giles' collection of monsters and demons. Still no luck.

Buffy looked up from her book.

"Reptiles. Reptiles with horns. Reptiles with gills. I'm still finding nothing of the steal-a-diamond, freeze-a-guy variety." He closed the book, annoyed. "An, would you hand me that one next to you?"

Anya ignores him, engrossed in the book she's researching.

"Great, we're not even married yet and already you've stopped listening to me," Xander huffs.

Xander reaches in front of her and grabs the book he needs, revealing a magazine called 'Bride and Joy'. He pulls the book from Anya's hands and reveals another magazine.

"_Anya_," he scolds.

"I'm sorry, but this is pointless," she tells him as Buffy moves away from the counter and towards Xander and Anya sitting at the table. "We've been researching forever and we're not even close to finding out who robbed that museum."

"What's up?" she asks lightly.

"Anya has a theory," Xander begins. "She thinks that Martha Stewart froze that guy."

Anya narrows her eyes at him. "Don't be ridiculous. Martha Stewart isn't a demon. She's a witch."

"Please," Xander scoffs. "She could—really?"

She looks at him like he's a moron. "Of course. No one could do that much decoupage without calling on the powers of darkness." Anya shakes her head.

"Guys, while this is fascinating, we still have work to do," Buffy reminds them sarcastically.

Anya is looking at the magazine again. "I know _I_ do. I can't decide whether to put my bridesmaids in cocktail dresses or the traditional burlap with blood larva," she says cheerily and looks up at Buffy.

"The traditional what?" Xander says. Buffy's eyes widen in horror.

"Well I was a demon for a thousand years, Xander. You can't expect me to turn my back on _all_ the ways of my people," Anya explains.

"Uh, can I weigh in on this whole, me-wearing-larva?" Buffy interrupts.

"No," Xander and Anya say in unison. Buffy sighs dejectedly and sits.

Anya continues. "At least I'm not asking you to perform the groom's rite of self-flagellation."

Xander is about to retort when Buffy hones in. "Uhh, guys. There's something out there."

"There is," Xander concurs. "As much as I hate to admit that my bizarre bride-to-be has a point, we're getting nowhere here, Buff. Maybe it's time to try something new. You know? Hit the streets. Get Spike on it."

"No," Buffy says immediately. "No, no Spike, and no hit the streets. We stay put, you know? Away from…distractions. We'll figure this out."

"What about Willow? Can't _she_ do something?" Anya wonders.

"Maybe, but she's home sleeping."

Xander looks at her perplexedly. "Sleeping? She sick?"

"No, she was out late. With Amy."

"And I'm bizarre," Anya snorts. "At least I didn't dump you to hang out with an ex-rat."

Buffy shakes her head. "No, it's not like that, you know, she's just helping Amy through a transition."

"And making herself a playmate to do magic with. Someone who won't monitor her, like Tara."

"Willow's a grown-up," Buffy tells Xander. "You know, maybe she doesn't need to be monitored. You know, she's going through something, but we're not her. I mean, maybe she has reasons for acting this way. And so what if she crossed a line? You know, we _all_ do stuff—_stupid_ stuff. But, then we learn—and we learn, and we don't do it again. So who are we to be all judge-y?"

Buffy's speech was really about herself. It wasn't consciously to herself, but after she said it, Buffy knew that she was referring to her sleeping with Spike.

"Not judge-y, Buff," Xander promised. "Just observe-y."

"Yeah, all we're saying is, she's acting different, you know? She's not herself," Anya said, and went back to her magazine.

After patrolling, Buffy returned home, placing her keys in their traditional spot on the table beside the front door.

The minute she returns she hears glass break and something fall upstairs.

"Hello?" She began walking up the stairs. "Willow? Dawn?"

She doesn't find them but hears another noise coming from Joyce's room—now Willow's room.

Willow's magic chest is open, and items are scattered everywhere. She hears the door creak behind her and turns to see Amy sneaking out of the room.

Buffy stops her and pushes her against the door. "What's going on?"

"Oh," Amy laughs meekly. "Busted—!" She gasps as Buffy shakes her.

"Where's Willow?"

"She said—she said I-I could—wait—"

Buffy tears a bag of dried green leaves from her hands. "What is this?"

"It's not what you think it is—its sage!"

Buffy sniffs it. "That _is_ what I think it is," she says and tosses it aside. "What's going on? Where's Willow and Dawn?"

Amy sighs nervously. "I saw—I saw her, but that w-was…I like your coat. When does the Slayer find time to shop—?"

Buffy pushes her against the door again. "So they didn't let you in?"

Amy laughs tensely. "Not that they know of…."

"What else did you take?"

"Nothing," Amy says quickly just as the Slayer begins slams her against the door another time.

"WHAT. ELSE?" Amy is unresponsive so Buffy goes for the pockets.

"Please—please, I need this stuff—"

Buffy pulls out a few crystals and another bag of herbs.

"Willow wants me to have it—she understands," Amy says.

"Understands _what_? Breaking into someone's house for kitchen spices? No, I don't think so."

"You should. She's as bad as I am—worse. I bet she's at Rack's right now."

"Rack's?"

"A place. He does spells," Amy says, a tremor coursing through her. "Heavy stuff. Willow's his new favorite," she sneers.

"She's there?" Buffy grips Amy again. "With DAWN?"

"Oh, don't shake me again—super strength—I think I'm gonna boot."

"Then tell me where this place is, and I won't," Buffy threatens.

Looking extremely queasy, Amy complies. "Its downtown, but it moves."

"What do you mean, 'it moves'?"

"Its downtown. I-I'm not sure where it would be tonight exactly."

"TELL ME HOW TO FIND IT."

"You just kind of have to feel it out! Oh God, I think I'm gonna be—oh, God—"

Buffy lets her go and rushes out of the room.

Buffy kicked in the door to Spike's crypt and went downstairs. After shouting his name once or twice she grabbed the nearest object—a vanilla candle—and chucked it at the sleeping corpse.

Spike bolted upright, gasping for air.

"God, do you sleep through anything? I was like yelling, and nothing." She put the second candle down.

"I'm a bit knackered." Spike smirked and pulled the sheets off of him, revealing his naked body. "Had a long night."

Buffy scowled and turned around, grabbing Spike's jeans off a red leather chair—stolen, no doubt.

"Someone should teach you how to use candles in foreplay, luv,"

"Get dressed," she snapped. "Dawn's missing."

"Again. Ever think about a lo-jack for the girl?" He sighed and gave in. "What's the story?"

"She went out with Willow," Buffy said.

"Willow?" he said lightly, amused. "'Kind of a sorry excuse to come by. You want the touch, all you need to do is—"

"_Spike_," she interrupts. "Willow's into something, okay? Her and Dawn have been missing for hours. There's some guy named Rack."

Spike frowns. "Rack?"

"Yeah. He's, uh, some sort of—"

"I know who he is—he deals in magic—black stuff. Dangerous."

"I've been all over downtown and I can't find his place," she tells him.

"Because he cloaks it. You can't feel it unless you're into the big bad—a witch or a vampire."

"So then let's go," she begs.

Spike stands up to get dressed and Buffy turns around, desperate to avoid an intimate moment.

He scoffs, offended. "Oh, that's right. Hide your blushing eyes."

Buffy and Spike walk down a dark road in the sleazy bit of Sunnydale, waiting for Spike to send Rack's place.

"Anything?" she asks.

"Not yet. Might pick up on it if you'd stop asking me about it every two seconds."

"Spike, if you're dragging this out—"

Spike stops walking and Buffy turns to face him.

"What, so I can linger near _your_ precious self? Get a grip."

Buffy raised her eyebrows. "Like you've never drawn things out before."

"Maybe," Spike admits, "but we've been through this, haven't we? Things have changed."

"Will you quit that?" Buffy hisses. "The only thing that's different is that I'm _disgusted_ with myself. _That's_ the power of your charms. Last night was the most perverse, degrading experience OF MY LIFE."

Spike smiles fondly. "Yeah," he said sweetly. "Me too." Then he resumed walking.

Buffy walks in step with him. "That might be how you get off, but it's not my style."

Spike sputters, holding back a loud guffaw. "No, it's your calling. Gave me a run for _my_ money, Slayer."

They walk in silence for a minute.

"Now I admit it; you've had me by the short hairs. I love you. You know it. But I got my rocks back. You felt something last night," he insists.

"Not love," Buffy retorts.

"Not yet, but I'm in your system now. You're gonna crave me like I crave blood—and the next time you come callin', if you don't stop being such a bitch maybe I will bite you," he threatens in an attempt to feel superior.

"That's it," Buffy huffs. "I want you out of my life. Out of my work, out of my home—"

"Too late for that," Spike breaks it to her. "You invited me in already."

Buffy rolls her eyes.

"And as for your work, you _need_ me. Like tonight."

Again with the eye-rolling. "I'll find Dawn myself."

"You really gonna put your little sis in danger just to spite me?" he challenges.

They're walking faster than before when suddenly they hear a girl cry out. They run towards the sound and find a massive, hairy demon preparing to attack a girl in a blue sweater.

"Dawn!" Buffy shrieks and lunges at the demon, taking him out.

She punches him and they both fall to the floor. She goes in for a kick but he's standing before she is. She kicks him and hits this time, sending him stumbling.

Spike rushes over to Dawn and examines her wound.

The demon throws some punches and misses, but Buffy is luckier: she punches him square in the nose but he retaliates quickly. She drops to the floor and kicks under his feet, knocking him down. He gets up and throws her up to the concrete ceiling.

Buffy rises, ready to fight when he starts quivering.

"Now you're scared? Better late than never…."

Suddenly he explodes. Willow appears behind him, red sparks shooting off her fingers and lighting up her black eyes.

Dawn whimpers.

"Dawn," Buffy says and runs to her. Spike moves to the other side of her. "What happened? Are you okay?"

"He was after Willow—" she says in between tears "—she made the car drive—don't!" she shrieks as Buffy reaches for her arm.

"No, honey, please—I need to see it, okay? Let me see your arm?"

"Dawn?" Willow rushes over to the three others. "Oh God, there's blood."

"We need to get her to a doctor," Buffy tells Spike.

"Is she okay?" Willow asks hurriedly. "I-is she okay?"

Buffy and Spike help Dawn stand up.

"Back off, Will, I got her," Buffy says hotly.

"No, Dawny…."

"I _mean_ it—STAY AWAY from her," Buffy hisses.

Willow runs in front of them. All three of them are glaring at her. "Dawny—Dawny, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry—it was an accident—I didn't see—I'm _so, so_ _sorry_."

Dawn smacks her across the face.

"Dawny!" Willow gasps, bewildered. "Dawny. Don't! Dawny, I'm sorry—oh God—I'm sorry," she sobs, and falls to the floor as Buffy and Spike lead her away. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

Spike and Buffy stop, and then Dawn leaves with Spike.

Buffy turns back to whimpering Willow. "Get up," she commands.

"I screwed it up—everything—Tara!" she cries.

Buffy grabs the collar of Willow's jacket and yanks her up. "Yeah, you know what? You _did_ screw up, okay? You could've killed her! You almost did!"

Willow sobs again. "I know, I know! I can't stop, Buffy! I've tried and I can't!"

"You CAN."

"I can't! I can't! I ju—God, I need help! Please! Please help me, please!" she cries and hugs Buffy, sobs still shaking her. "Please!"

Buffy puts a hand on Willow's back.

Buffy walked down the hall to her mother's old room. Willow was sitting on the bed meditating, but sensed Buffy's presence when she entered.

"Is she okay?" Willow asked.

"She's sleeping," Buffy replied inanimately. "The ER doc gave her something for the pain that knocked her out."

"But she's gonna be alright?" Willow clarifies.

"It's a fracture. It's gonna take some time." Buffy looks down.

"God. I'm sorry," Willow whispers. "I'm so…."

"I just don't understand. I don't understand why you'd go to see somebody like Rack, and I certainly don't understand why you dragged Dawn into it."

"I don't know," Willow said slowly. "The magic—I…I thought I had it under control, and then…I didn't."

"Because of Tara?"

"No. It started before she left. It's _why_ she left."

"It seemed like things were going so well."

"It was. But I mean, if you could be a plain old Willow or Super Willow, who would you be?" She looked at Buffy and then realized. "I guess you don't actually have an option on the whole super thing."

"Will, there's nothing wrong with you. You don't need magic to be special."

"Don't I? I mean, Buffy, who was I? Just…some girl. Tara didn't even know that girl."

"You were more than 'some girl'," Buffy assures her. "And Tara wants you to stop. She loves you."

"We don't know that," Willow says grimly.

"_I_ know that. I promise you."

"I just…it took me away from myself—I was…free."

"I get that. More than y—but it's wrong. People get hurt."

"If something had happened to Dawn tonight—something worse—"

"I know."

Willow shakes her head frantically. "No, I don't think you do. I-I was out of my mind—I did things I can't even…it won't happen again, I _promise_. No more spells—I'm finished."

"Good. I think it's right, to give it up. No matter how good it feels."

"It's not worth it, if it messes with the people I love. Magic wasn't all great. I won't miss the nose bleeds and the headaches and stuff."

"There you go," Buffy says, trying to comfort her.

"…keeping stinky yak cheese in my bra…"

Buffy makes a face.

"Don't ask," Willow says, before Buffy _can_ ask.

"Now I don't have to."

"'Cause it's over."

"Exactly. It's over."

The two girls nod slowly and quietly, letting it all sink in. Only Buffy knows that she means her affair with Spike is over too.

Finally Buffy goes back to her room, and empties her Slayer chest. She hangs every last clove of garlic all around her room, and hugs a cross to her.

_It's over_, she thinks.

Note: I am fully aware that I switch back and forth with tenses. It is intended, and I apologize if it was a bit uneasy on the brain.


End file.
